


The voice of no choice

by whiskeredschatz



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't Test Me, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gender Confusion, Gender Dysphoria, I love him, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, THERE IS PLOT, What Have I Done, but there is also plot, i.e. Shikaku is alive, or the plot involves the porn, she chants, the porn involves the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeredschatz/pseuds/whiskeredschatz
Summary: Haruto Nakamura, a person of non-descript gender, seems to have this weird ability to lull people into a sense of trust (and *cough* lust *cough*). What was that?!Nevermind. They're a bubbly civilian, happy to become friends with one grumpy Nara Shikamaru, and an even grumpier Shikaku, somehow worming themselves into their lives for some great cooking!There will be plot, there will be awkward gender questions, and there, most certainly, will be smut. Also, Haruto may or may not have a strong weakness for older men. Enjoy!





	1. Erm. Hi?

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, here goes nothing
> 
> *worriedly chants - We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz*

Shikamaru was enjoying his short lunch break with a healthy dose of clouds. Just a few more, and then he would return to Kakashi- _sama_ ’s nagging. What had Konoha come to, appointing an emotionally stunted young adult with zero-self respect and perverted tendencies as their Hokage? How low the mighty had fallen. His stomach growled, but he tried to ignore it. He was having a _moment_.

“Would you like some o-ni-gi-ri?!” a voice sung nearby. He peered up and above his head, to see a short woman, smiling so widely her eyes were scrunched shut.

“What’s the catch?” Shikamaru asked. She wasn’t suspicious per se (* _author snorts_ *), but people always wanted something in return. Tit for tat.

She frowned in confusion. “I want to touch your hair, of course!”

There was no ‘of course’ about it, he wasn’t Neji Hyuuga. Only he could attract the weird behaviour of strangers by virtue of his shining locks.

“It has grass in it.”

“Then I’ll clean - it - up!” She sang again, and Shikamaru hoped he wasn’t about to witness a whole musical. He held his palm out and returned to gazing at the sky. The woman chuckled happily and placed a rice ball in his hand. She plopped behind him and put his head in her lap. He felt a bit like an animal, coerced into grooming with food, but the onigiri _was_  delicious.

That was how Nara Shikamaru and Nakamura Haruto met.

\----

She didn’t always sing her questions, but it made her happy to do so, at least from time to time. Haruto had taken to sharing her bento with Shikamaru every other day (only if he paid for the ingredients though!, now that his hair had lost its novelty), and they became easy friends. Her smiling, him relaxing, their days seemed brighter for it.

“Shi-ka-ma-ru?”

He looked up at her and saw Haruto looked confused. “What’s wrong?”

Haruto brightened up a bit, always cheered by his instances of effort - such as when he asked full questions. “Am I a boy, or a girl?”

He’d heard this question many times before. “Today, you look like a boy.”

“Mmmhmm.” she hummed in dissent. “But am I a boy, or a girl?” Haruto insisted.

Shikamaru propped his head on his hand and studied her carefully. Personally, he thought she was a woman. But the one and only time he’d answered that, he hadn’t seen Haruto for a week. She’d been very upset about it, but hadn’t elaborated on the subject when she did, eventually, join him again in the park. Shikamaru didn’t press the issue, and she quickly dismissed his apology. He couldn’t say she was a ‘girl’, as she put it, because that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. He opted for another question. “What do you think you are?”

Haruto’s face scrunched up at that. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m as-king you, Shi-ka-ma-ru.”

Shikamaru frowned, because he honestly had no idea what to say. He didn’t want to offend her, and since she obviously was not enquiring about her sex, he offered the only vague remark he could think of. “I think you can be whatever you want, Haruto. You only do what you want, anyway, right?” He joked, but it was true. Haruto was very strong-willed.

The impossibly wide smile returned. “That’s why I like you, Shika. You think you don’t understand much about my problem, but you summed it up better than I ever could. Thank you! Shi-ka-ma-ru!” Haruto's singing was always pleasant, especially when she was so happy, there were no lyrics to be had, only strings of sounds from previous words, nonsensically tied together in a relaxing tune. It made Shikamaru happy too, in a way. He had a feeling Asuma would approve of Haruto’s influence on him, as she often pulled him out of his ‘thinking traps’, when she thought his ‘overthinking’ was ‘bad for him’.

\----

“Hey, Haru?” Shikamaru asked one evening when he was playing shoji with Haruto. They were on the back porch of a tea house, since Haruto refused to come to his place, and he didn’t want to impose by asking they met at hers. He surmised she was a rather poor civilian.

“Mmmhmmm?” she hummed.

“Why do you pretend to be ditsy?” He kept his eyes trained on the board, but could tell she was surprised by his question.

“That’s a nice way to put it! Others have called me silly, scatterbrained or just plain stupid! I don’t know. I don’t care.” Haruto shrugged and slid her rook, a cunning move .

“What do you mean?” Shikamaru asked.

“I don’t know why I can’t focus, but I don’t care. People think I’m simple, but you don’t, so it's ok!” Haruto answered in a pleased voice, rocking back and forth. She had trouble staying still when happy, Shikamaru noticed.

He thought about it for the next few moves and chanced the ‘parents’ question. Haruto didn’t like that category, she once told him. “What do your parents think?”

Haruto pouted, the look very out of place given her very sombre black yukata and severe low bun. She was mourning for a dead squirrel she found two days ago. “I don’t like that question. But they don’t think much about it. They’re happy I have a good job. Oh, and they approve of you, my ’shinobi friend’.” She said the phrase with both pride and distaste and it made Shikamaru wonder what she’d told them. He flushed at her announcement, not liking the odd spotlight. “They think I’ll be safer in a shinobi village if I have a shinobi friend, but I don’t think it matters. If I die, I die.”

Haruto then noticed the board was shaking slightly, the only reasonable explanation being Shikamaru’s tight, but unstable grip on the sides. Before she had a chance to ask what was wrong, the man moved next to her and whispered shakily. “May I hug you, Haruto?”

At this, she smiled warmly. She knew how to react to this, she liked comforting people. “Of course, Shi-ka-“, and the flurry of spiky hair was upon her with a vengeance. Shikamaru gripped her so tightly that it hurt her untrained muscles, but Haruto didn’t even flinch. She rocked them gently, in a soothing rhythm, humming softly.

When Shikamaru calmed down, he told her he’d take care of her, and Haruto didn’t disagree, because you’re not supposed to argue with people when they’re in distress.


	2. What when how - ok?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru is Late and Haruto does not approve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the smut tag? just checking.

\----

  
Haruto went to the park the day Shikamaru was due to return from his mission. Shikamaru wasn’t there. She waited for an hour and then left. She went to the Hokage Tower the day following his expected return, but the Hokage told her he wasn’t there. She asked him where he said, but he said it was confidential. He did give her a chocolate cookie though and after an hour, she left. The next day, she went near the Village gates, asked the guards if she could wait there for an hour and they said yes. They played poker and then she left. The day after that, she managed to find out where Shikamaru lived and went there. Every day, she waited an hour, and then left. On the 7th day, one of the Nara’s got curious and lazily asked her why she was there. She told the nice man she was looking for Shikamaru. The nice man invited her for tea and they played shoji for an hour. The following day, she was greeted by a different Nara man, who strongly resembled Shikamaru.

“Are you Shikamaru’s dad?” Haruto asked.

  
He nodded. 

“Do you know where he is?” 

He didn’t.

She accepted his invitation for tea. It was a Wednesday.

“Thank you, Nara-san. Is this where Shikamaru lives?” Haruto asked in awe. The place felt so huge and welcoming, with its warm, earthy tones and deer-embellished shoji screens. She liked it.

The Nara have her a searching look. “It is. I don’t remember Shikamaru mentioning his - ‘civilian friend’, before. ” That was how Haruto had introduced herself earlier. “Do you happen to have a name?” He asked as he prepared the tea.

“Doesn’t Shikamaru know I’m a civilian?” Haruto asked. When the Nara didn’t reply, she tackled his other question. “I’m Haru-to Na-kamu-ra!” she intoned in her sing-song voice. “Do you know when Shikamaru will be back?”

The Nara shook his head. He now sported something of a half-smile on his scarred face. “So you’re the one who’s been keeping my son fed. Thank you.”

Haruto looked at him like he had sprouted three new ponytails atop his head. “He’s paying for the food. Also, Shikamaru is my ‘shinobi friend’ and he told me he’ll keep me safe so that I don’t die. I didn’t argue with him because he was upset, but we all die. I should be thanking you for making Shikamaru into Shi-ka-ma-ru!” she finished, grinning from ear to ear.

“Then we are even.” The Nara concluded, extending his hand.

Haruto regarded it and took it with purpose, certain it meant something important. “Shi-ka-ku-san! Do you like o-ni-gi-ri?”

\----

It was in the evening of that same Wednesday and Haruto was still at the Nara compound. She had Wednesday afternoons off. The clock chimed seven when Shikaku sprang to life from his meditative nap on the couch. Haruto was in the middle of concocting dinner, when she heard the front door open. Their block of flats had had an attempted burglary a few months back - a desperate man, because the neighbourhood was known to be poor. Haruto knew what a front door sounded like.

“I’m home”, came a tired drawl. It was Shikamaru’s voice.

Haruto sprang from her seat and leapt straight into the entranceway. Shikaku was leaning against the wall, but slanted towards his son at the same time. Shikamaru’s sandals had barely come off when confronted with a discontent Haruto, who paid no mind to the dirt and sweat, clinging to him.

“Hi.” He mumbled, mouth full of Haruto’s hair. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, but you weren’t there.” Haruto declared, no longer upset because Shikamaru was here. 

“I know. Hi dad.”

“Welcome home, Shikamaru.”

“Shi-ka-ma-ru!” Haruto sang imperiously. “You are tired and tired. Also, you stink. You have to wash.” It was an order.

Shikamaru let himself be dragged inwards, although Haruto stopped before the kitchen. She didn’t know where the bathroom was. Shikaku wordlessly pointed it out, obstacle overcome.

\----

Shikamaru understood he stank and he needed to be thorough, but Haruto still went inside with him.

“I’ll shower and then come eat.” He tried again. Subtle. “I’m not going to fall asleep and drown.” Which was not a lie, per se, because he was hungry enough to stay awake. Where Haruto’s food was concerned, he was ravenous - it was that delicious.

She hummed in agreement. Shikamaru was exhausted, so instead of talking he began to undress, knowing Haruto was clever and would understand the cue. Except that when he was about to yank the hairband our of his nest of hair, a cold hand stopped him.

“Haruto.” Shikamaru said.

“Shikamaru.” She answered, removing the elastic band carefully and then moving her attention to his belt. He gently stopped her fiddling.

“What are you doing?”

“I am helping you take a bath because you are dizzy and tired.” The frown felt terribly out of place on her ever-smiling face. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Of course, this was another one of those _things_  that were only obvious to Haruto. He reassured her once again, but she just stood there, observing him for a long while. Eventually she nodded, the movement a tad jerky and then positioned herself on the stool by the towel cupboard, facing away from the man.     

Ok. So she understood that undressing him was not considered decent - a step forward. Shikamaru likes Haruto because she wasn’t demanding. She didn’t feel entitled to him and his company. If he made a point about something, if he outright refused, she wouldn’t throw a fit. Haruto didn’t hold grudges, she didn’t do angry. Unlike so many of the women he had encountered, soured by the trials of being a kunoichi.

That didn’t mean Haruto was happy about everything - just that she understood that not everything could go her way. She could compromise - in awkward and very unusual ways, but not passive aggressively, which was miles better in his book.

Shikamaru undressed himself to the sound of Haruto’s relaxed him, as she folded, rolled and rearranged the towels by size. He knew Haruto was different and she knew it too. It rarely bothered him, but for the current sliver of guilt. She’d been waiting for him out of a desire to help. Selfless. Sighing, he felt at odds with his himself.

“Haruto? Could you help me?” He’s draped a small towel on his lap.

Haruto turned on the stool in the most dramatic fashion, mouth agape. He huffed, but there was reason to her reaction. He rarely changed his mind.

“Is this too hot, Shi-ka-ma-ru?”

He shook his head. Warm water ran down his face, steaming the room. He was rubbed with vigour, Haruto moving the cloth in sure, clockwise motions. The breaks were punctuated by Haruto’s silent assessment of her work, looking and sniffing until his pinkish skin shone to her satisfaction. It made him feel very, _very_  naked, but also relaxing, to be cared for so thoroughly. His brilliant strategies were not needed here. If he were to nap, become distracted or dizzy from tiredness, she wouldn’t judge. Shikamaru could just be.

The shower beat down on his back, a pleasant numbness. Haruto focused on his knotted thigh muscles, knuckles pressed hard.

“Shikamaru?” Haruto asked, voice tinged with confusion and wonder. “It moved.”

Shikamaru didn’t freak out. Naras couldn’t afford freak outs. However, in this case, he believed a bit of surprise and healthy embarrassment could be excused. The bond of trust between friends, no quicker broken than by non-platonic advances. He’d gotten too relaxed. Such a cruel world. _'Calm down, it’s only Haruto. Apologise and move on.'_ But did his mouth listen to that morsel if wisdom?

“Does it - does it bother you?” Well, fellow shinobi and kunoichi of Konoha, his mouth most certainly had other plans. It his defence, it was terribly out of character and under the influence of heat, exhaustion and deep massage therapy.

Haruto was deep in thought, staring at the tented towel with the countenance of one about to unlock Pandora’s box.

“Do you want to touch it? I can help, Shi-ka-ma-ru?” She was so confident and happy, it almost swept him along. Shaking his head, wet hair - deservedly - whipping him in the face, Shikamaru took the stance of the coward.

“Haru. Listen...”, he began, words muffled in his hands. Had he upset the spirits? “I know you have - good intentions,” If he did, he hoped this was punishment enough. “But it’s not, appropriate? To do that.” Did it have to be Haruto who served it?

“Why not?” Oh the spirits were not done. He’ll go to s shrine first thing tomorrow. “I’ve done it before you know.” He could almost feel his soul seeping out. “Shika needs help and Haru knows how.” Haru, pure, innocent Haru. “Besides, if I don’t touch it it’s ok!”

Yes, Shikamaru was doomed and - wait what?

“Mhm!” Haru hummed in her ‘friend determined to help another friend’ way. Shikamaru’s eyes were as wide as Rasengan-induced tree holes, frozen mid crotch-cover motion. But Haruto was heading away from the danger zone, behind him, and began massaging his neck. She wanted to distract him! Ok. He had simply misunderstood her earlier.

“Do you like men or women, Shi-ka-ma-ru?”

“...I like people who aren’t annoying.”

“Hmmm.” Her fingers moved deftly up the sides of his neck, pressing into the tight knots. “Am I annoying, Shi-ka-ma-ru?”

“Of course not.”

“Hmm. So do you like me when I’m a boy or a girl, Shi-ka-ma-ru?”

Shikamaru considered this for a moment, but the answer was easy. “I prefer it when you look like a man. Please don’t use the word ‘boy’, it makes me feel like a pedo.”

Haruto leaned into his hair and whispered against his ear. “Do you want to fuck me, Shi-ka-ma-ru?”

The question made his brain short-circuit. Not the least because he _did_  want to have sex with male Haru- ' _wait!'_ , the rational part of his mind shouted.

“I. You’re very attractive, Haru. But - we’re friends.” Shikamaru managed to croak.

“You look so hot when you’re wet, Shi-ka-ma-ru. It’s making me _hard_ , Shi-ka-ma-ru.” Haruto’s voice persisted. Shikamaru’s los grunt of approval flew in plain view. His right hand moved to his still towelled lap and pushed down on his erection. His reasoning centre gave one last try, shrieking _‘are. You. **Insane**??!’_, but it was of no use. Haruto’s voice overwhelmed him like warm water, forcing him to relax against his will. His senses bewitched.

“Touch yourself for me, Shi-ka-ma-ru”, the voice pleaded, making altogether too much sense. Why not succumb to his baser instincts. Haru was hard, _he_  was hard, and they both wanted release. An agreement was reached. Not to mention that the thought of Haru having an erection because of him caused Shikamaru no small amount of excitement. He was, after all, only human. He groped his penis tightly and - mhmm, moaned. ‘That feels so fucking good.’

“You’re so handsome when you moan, Shi-ka-ma-ru. Makes me wanna touch myself. Shi-ka-ma-ru.” Haruto whined his name like a chant and even though Shikamaru couldn’t see him, he could hear the lust in his voice. He listened to the part that told him not to turn.

“Do it.” Shikamaru encouraged, the thought of Haru griping himself eliciting another moan. The towel slipped on the floor, abandoned. _‘Oh fuck, that feels good.’_

“I want you to make me cum, Shi-ka-ma-ru.” Shikamaru listened and made a show of giving his cock a sharp tug with one hand, and palming his balls with the other. ' _So. Fucking. Good.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut coughing fit ensues*


	3. OMF-- oh, ok. (>.??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bathroom is getting kinda loud.
> 
> Also, there are questions at the dinner table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some descriptive ....stuffffff of the naked nature I mean wtf are you here for otherwise thank u

’ _What was that?_ ’ Shikaku wondered at the noises coming from the bathroom. Was that a groan? He wasn’t the kind of father who coddled (although Inoichi Yamanaka would have many a word to say on that), but he did look forward to the days when Shikamaru could move into the more village-strategy oriented positions he was suited to. Like himself, for that matter.

Active worriers, that’s what Yoshino used to call them. The most active they got was when their brains ran around in pointless circles, entertaining the most creative of unlikely worst-case scenarios.

Shikaku was currently in the library, going over Yoshino’s recipe book. Her curry recipe was as mean as the traps and poisons she used to make. He still missed her, no matter how much she nagged and ordered both of them around. “Stubborn woman”, he grunted fondly. It was at times like these he was infinitely grateful for Choji and Ino, keeping his son sane. But of course, they had suffered too. No shin obi was spared and that led to days when these was only so much comfort the grieving could give to each other. Shikaku hadn’t kept it in, he’d shared it as soon as Inoichi tricked him into it and by Kami, had he and Chouza grounded him.

Shikaku felt him and his son were missing something, though. A strong figure to whip them into shape, one who wouldn’t care about the sadness and the melancholy when it came to eating properly, keeping the house clean and just, making sure they don’t mull too much. Someone who could make the daily trudge and crawl of existence more bearable.

Haruto Nomaka was exactly what Shikamaru needed as the one person around him who didn’t stand for non-sense.

The groans were getting increasingly loud and there was a limit to how much blissful ignorance Shikaku could claim. Shikamaru didn’t need another mother hen in there, but if he had wrongly thought he didn’t need medical care, would Haruto be able to drag him to the hospital?

With both reluctance and apprehension, Shikaku headed to the bathroom, wincing in sympathy at the frequency of moans. However, he was greeted by a scene that reminded him how his cleverness could fail spectacularly in family matters. Because, despite the steam and low lighting, there was no mistaking the up and down motion of Shikamaru’s hand and widely spread legs. Mortified, Shikaku was about to bolt, held only by his brain’s fascination of how wrong he had been in his assumptions.

It was a work of wonder.

“Your cock is glistening, Shi-ka-ma-ru. It looks so fucking hot, Shi-ka-ma-ru.”

And really, that should have broken the forbidden jutsu that kept him still and made him run faster, through the walls if necessary. Yet, a puzzle enthusiast, Shikaku couldn’t help but notice (although he had noticed quite enough for one night) that Haruto was nowhere near the - * _centre_ * of activity. In fact, Haruto seemed to be fully clothed and * _stretching_ *, of all things, not even within arm’s reach of Shikamaru.

When Haruto froze and turned around, suddenly aware of Shikaku’s presence, the man couldn’t find it in myself to react. She stared at him like a lifeless doll, head cocked to the side. Then, she stepped to the side, shielding Shikamaru’s body with her own.

“Do you want to cum, Shi-ka-ma-ru?” Her voice was so sweet, so far removed from her frozen, analytical expression.

Shikamaru whined in agreement, but Shikaku’s eyes were locked on the strange girl before him. ‘Leave and close the door’, Haruto mouthed, and so he did.

But as Shikaku reached the kitchen, he couldn’t remember the reason for having rushed there in the first place. He put the kettle on, thinking that Shikamaru would be done bathing soon.

\----

Back in the bathroom of ‘wtf just happened’, Haruto was cleaning Shikamaru’s stomach.

‘Haruto is such a good friend. I should never doubt him again…’, Shikamaru thought.

“What do you want to eat, Shika?”

“Some tea - yawn - on rice would be nice. You’re staying for dinner, right?”

Haruto shook his head. “No. I need to head back home after I finish your good. The rice is ready so it won’t take long.”

That was a statement Shikamaru did not approve of. “No. You’re staying here tonight. It’s late and the guest bedroom is empty.” Plus there had been issues with some local drug gangs, dealing with hallucinogens that just so happened to cause memory loss. Haruto didn’t need to know that. He felt uncertain following his bold statement, never having outright told Haruto what to do before. Haruto’s signature infectious smile was back in action, so Shikamaru smiled a tad stupidly back.

\---

This way Haruto was there to enjoy the many not disinterested comments of the two Nara men, complimenting her on her cooking. Being a savvy ‘offering services for money’ kind of person, Haruto immediately offered to make food on a regular basis, in exchange for a per meal fee.

Shikaku had other thoughts. “Where do you work now?”

“At a kimono store, but I do the boring stuff. The owner doesn’t trust me not to ruin the silks.”

“Haruto greets customers and keeps the place clean”, Shikamaru explained. “That shifty woman knows exactly how many customers she’s getting because of your personality. I’ve seen people who’ve never worn a haori in their life go in and buy something just because you were there.”

Haruto shrugged, but she was still smiling.

In his corner, Shikaku was getting Ideas(TM) and decided to hold an in-depth interview on the spot.

“What’s the pay like?”  
“It’s ok.”

“Have you ever negotiated the salary?”  
“No?”

“What else can you do?”  
“Some things?”

“Would you like to work somewhere else?”  
“I don’t know?”

“Dad.” Shikamaru intervened, his tone warning. It made Shikaku feel * _insulted_ *.

“I’m just trying to figure out if Haruto would like to work here.” He clarified, the picture of disinterest, as if his eyes didn’t hold the unmistakable ‘Nara glint’ (i.e. the ‘Stategy Sparkle’, as Chouza had dubbed it).

Haruto was confused. “Where?”

Shikamaru sighed so deeply, he seemed to deflate like a balloon. “My dad thinks it’s acceptable to ask friends if they’d like to work as some sort of housekeeper because he likes your cooking.” His words said ‘Shikaku is ridiculous’, but his tone was definitely ‘I don’t approve of this * _at all_ *’.

“Food, cleaning and free time for the rest of the day. Lodgings included. Same pay. You can also try your hand at painting on some of Yoshino’s old fabric piles.” Shikaku was smug. His offer was good and made better by having someone he knew help around the house. Miles better than a stranger, * _or_ * a lazy relative.

“But she’s dead. I thought you’re not supposed to touch stuff that belonged to dead relatives.” As with other times when Haruto’s detachment from normal human interactions came through, she had adopted the same haunting alien look.

To his credit, Shikamaru took the reins. He knew how to handle this. “Haruto”, he began, like a father who’s patience stemmed from many years of hard-wearing experience. “That is true, but it’s good for people to let go, put some of those items to good use. Treat them with respect, but don’t worry about it.” Haruto was following, nodding along the way. “Even though the person is dead, it’s a bit harsh to put it like that.”

There was a moment of contemplation, before Haruto’s eyes widened and she scrambled off her chair. “I’m sorry”, she said, bowing deeply.

She then returned to her seat as if nothing of note had occurred. “Shikamaru, I want to work here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh?
> 
> don't worry, I have a plan (it's all plot I swear)
> 
> (check out my 'original' writing dump on albusandi.wordpress.com but be warned, there may be tears and confuse)


	4. Sob and dull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome. I have been gone, for a while. YET HERE I AM< BITCHES! I brought you the same lack of quality which you have come to expect. Enjoy.

It was going well. Haruto spent the free time she had during her first week working at the Nara’s moving her belongings and trying to convince her parents she hadn’t gotten married and no, she was not taken advantage of. When her parents insisted she be careful, because she can be a bit gullible sometimes, she just kept repeating ’He’s my shinobi friend. He won’t hurt me’, until they gave up and cried about their baby girl moving up in the world. Haruto thought at her age she would be considered an adult, but didn’t disagree. She didn’t want to upset them.

It was all going well. She had only broken one cup. Shikaku said it had been cheap. Shikamaru had just gone on an escort mission with the Hokage earlier that day. The house was spotless, the food was done and it was only 2 in the afternoon.

Haruto decided to go to the library for some light fiction. It was getting chilly again, as it did every year, but at least the sun was shining. Haruto liked the sun. The armchair near the window was currently occupied by a nondescript book. She opened it and saw recipes, which was good, because Haruto liked food. Actually, Haruto loved food. The recipes were handwritten and seemed simple, but tasty. Miso, gyudon, nikuyaga, okami, tamagoyaki.

*

The sound of the front door opening. Haruto jumped from the armchair and greeted Shikaku with an aggressive: “Shikaku-san! Lunch?!”, happy to have company. Oblivious of personal space, Haruto’s nose was 1 inch away from the man’s chest. That meant she couldn’t see Shikaku’s ‘deer-impersonating-a-fish’ face. He gently eased her away.

“Hello, Haruto-chan. Some lunch would be nice, thanks.”

“Miso!” Haruto cheered, bouncing to the kitchen.

Shikaku slid on one of the chairs with as little effort as possible, thanks to years of training in ‘energy conservation’. He just needed to relax. The day had started at 4 am, 8 hours too early for his circadian rhythm. If he could just nap while Haruto heated the miso. But then he noticed a towel-wrapped bundle to the side. He unwrapped it gently and found Yoshino’s recipe book. Damn tear-jerker.

“I”, he cleared his throat, “I see you found Yoshino’s recipe book.”

“Yes. I will try some recipes tomorrow.”

Shikaku grunted in response. Yoshino would make fun of him for being sappier then a maple tree. It had to be a side effect of growing old. He was almost 40. Admittedly, that didn’t _sound_  that old, but in shinobi years (he was as old as Genbu!), he’d long passed the requirement for active service. Heck, he could retire soon, if he was as boring as his younger self aspired to be. He rubbed his eyes - they weren’t quite dry.

“Are you sad?” Haruto asked, green, bright eyes boring into him. Well that felt uncomfortable.

“A bit.”

“Are you more hungry than sad, or more sad than hungry?” To that nonsense, Shikaku continued to stare, blankly. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Haruto insisted, pocking his nose.

“Er, one?”

Haruto straightened. “I’ll take care of you”, she announced. It was said in a solemn, certain voice, the kind that demand silence and respect. He nodded in agreement, for he felt there was no other choice. Just as suddenly, he felt her weight crushing him in a fierce hug. Who was this odd creature?

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen. Or we can hug in silence.” The way she was patting his head, Shikaku wished, for just a moment, that he was a child. Everything seemed so much easier back then, and that made him feel old the most.

*

The soup was now lukewarm. They ate mostly in silence, Haruto’s content hums with each spoonful filling the air. Her feet moved up and down to the rhythm, syphoning some of her excess energy.

“Are you going back to work?” Haruto asked. She had to know his actions in advance. A few weeks ago, she had asked for his schedule for the upcoming month. That had required a lot of patient explanation as to why that presented a dangerous security risk. No negotiations had been allowed on the topic, but the question still came up from time to time, to Shikaku’s chagrin. At least today it wouldn’t be a problem.

“No. I have some reports here that I need to deal with.” That cheered Haruto up greatly.

The next thing he knew, she was following him to his study, books in hands. After 5 fitful minutes, Haruto had made many attempts to settle, but each time got distracted by Shikaku’s scroll shuffling.

“You can leave, if you want.” He offered, teasingly. It would not be long before she sounded over to the woods to feed the deer.

Haruto took his question as in invitation to interact, and pointed at the scrolls. “Can I see?”

“You’ll find them to be very dull”, but gestured she was free to peruse them. Clan related land disputes, marriage approval forms and advance payment request was about as boring paperwork could get. It was the kind of work only Yoshino had mastered the patience for, not to mention skill. He loathed it with all his being, but Shikamaru had managed to evade all Shikaku’s attempts at ‘delegating’ the responsibility. Damn kid, took too much after his father.

“They are dull”, Haruto agreed, nose scrunched up in disapproval. “But very easy. This one is trying to divert attention. Inuzuka hounds are highly intelligent.” The report she was referring to claimed the need for ‘emotional recompense’ after finding what they claimed to be faeces belonging to an Inuzuka hood in their garden. Shikaku hm’ed in agreement. It sounded lie a personal dispute.

“This person writes like someone who has asked for money before. I don’t like them. And this - why does a person need permission to get married?”

“It’s part of my duties as clan heads. Most clans have to… manage this sort of thing.” He began to explain the politics behind it, it that same matter-of-fact tone he’d witnessed Shikamaru use. It was the ’topics mired in politics and tradition’ tone, i.e. ones which did not necessarily make logical sense and just ‘were’. That usually stopped Haruto from asking more questions, as sometimes, there would simply be no rational explanation for how or why things still were that way. As expected, Haruto nodded and dropped the subject.

“Can I help?”

“Could you bring me some tea, please? I sense* I’ll be here for a while…”

 

~~_*author note: that shinobi 6th sense tho*_ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a tad short, BUT there will be some good good smut coming soon. Also, I knoooowooowww it seems a bit sexist (which it *is*, bc The Naras *were*, canonically, a tad uber sexisT), but we're gonna work from here and make 'em shake that SHIT UP
> 
> (also if there are mistakes, point them OUT cause I don't have a beta T-T, but I do have ADHD - so fun

**Author's Note:**

> *how are you still here?!*
> 
> Was that short? Probably. I'm terribly prone to editing *read - ruthlessly cut until there's barely anything left*. 
> 
> Leave me some reviews?! (OR not I'm not your parent)


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